


Sleep Talking

by Aithilin



Series: Fai's Little Secrets [1]
Category: Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle
Genre: Fluff, M/M, hinted angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-25
Updated: 2016-08-25
Packaged: 2018-08-10 23:37:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7865911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aithilin/pseuds/Aithilin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fai sometimes talks in his sleep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleep Talking

**Author's Note:**

> Based on another of the "Fai's small secrets" thing.

“I'm waking up.”

It started in the peaceful worlds. Worlds where they weren't collapsing in exhaustion; weren't groggily trading watch shifts; where they weren't more concerned with their continued survival. 

It started in worlds where Fai’s smile was brighter, less dangerous. Worlds where they attended festivals and were met with kindness or curiosity. Where they were given soft beds and warm meals without the expectation of a favour owed or a price to be paid. 

“I'm waking up.”

At first, Kurogane thought that Fai was aware of it. He thought that Fai’s mumbled words in the tail-end of sleep were intentional, conscious. He thought they were meant for him as he stroked a gentle hand across a pale back or through messy, sleep-curled golden hair. 

It was a confused look and a frustrated whine into a pillow that suggested the words weren't meant for him. 

“I'm going back, Fai.”

The first time he heard it— muttered, half-asleep uttering into the pillow— his blood ran cold. There were no stories in this world of the dead visiting the living, no folk tales of ghostly temptations. He hadn't been visited, Syaoran hadn't seen any of the souls he chased after. 

There were no stories or histories or legends in the next world, or the next, or the next. 

And over breakfast, each time, Fai simply laughed it off and said he didn't remember the dreams from the night before. 

In some worlds— those with a more magical inclination— Fai woke cold. The room was chilled, their breath hanging in the air around them. And when Kurogane woke, still half in his own dreams, he swore he saw the image of tower stones against the walls and bars on the windows. They faded quickly, back to the warm cabin walls or hideous paper plastered over weak insulation. Worlds where he shook Fai back to the real world and dealt with the bleary confusion and resulting sulk all day. 

In some worlds, Kurogane was pulled from his own dreams because of it. Dragged away from sunny fields and familiar, long gone structures; from misplaced technology from one world when Sakura was still with them, and demons from another. Nightmares of acidic rain and blood on decaying concrete. He’d wake with a start, reaching on instinct for a sword or dagger, and be met with apologetic blue eyes. 

“I'm waking up.”

The worlds where Fai woke first— where he kissed and smiled and teased Kurogane away from his own dreams— Kurogane preferred. He wouldn't have to wonder what nightmare his lover was trapped in. He wouldn't have to think about the way the Mage used to view his death as a gift for the life of his brother. He didn't have to think too hardly or too closely on the words that slipped out when Fai’s careful control was relaxed. 

He liked the mornings where Fai was smiling at him, sleepy eyed and hoarse, sprawled across their bed in limbs that had no business being so long when the man barely came up to his shoulders. Where Fai would tease and laugh and start the day carefree. 

“Are you awake?”

“I am now, idiot.”

“Good morning.”


End file.
